


Dreaming of Lights

by mdaoust245



Category: Dreaming of Lights
Genre: Canon LGBTQ Character, Canon LGBTQ Male Character, Canon Trans Character, F/F, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Original Character(s), Trans, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-12-14 01:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21007190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdaoust245/pseuds/mdaoust245
Summary: Hi everyone! This is an original work, so it's not a fanfiction at all. I was told that original works could be posted here, but if that's not the case someone point me a source and I'll gladly take this down.So what is this story about? Well it's set in another world and revolves around two main characters, Kuryo (pronounced Goryeo - you little nerds probably know what it means, haha) and Charr. It is important to note that for the first part of this series - they exist in different worlds and so they don't cross at all. But hey, eventually.What else do you need to know? Well, if you want to see my artwork and read more about the story, you can find it all on my blog https://unhingedandunenlightened.wordpress.comThis work is inspired by my dreams. It's actually 3ish dreams mashed together in a sort of cohesive way. So yes, it might get a bit trippy. But hey, that's life.Finally, I really want to invite everyone to let me know your thoughts about the story. I seriously love chatting about my writings and it really inspires me to keep going when people enjoy it. So please, message me!





	1. Chapter 1

Kuryo

“Kuryo! Kuryo!”  
I ducked and ran. No, that wasn’t me! Totally not my name!

“I saw you!” the vendor shouted, who also happened to be my neighbor, so even if I got away now I wasn’t really getting away.

“Late for school!” I shouted over my shoulder in guise of a terrible excuse.  
Behind me, the dirty street was nearly empty. It was too early for the druggies to be out of bed and most of the drunks were home sleeping their hangover off. A thin, cold, mist hung over the earth, soaking through my pant legs and making my boots skid over the damp sidewalk.

“Thief!” the horrid neighbor shouted after me, as loud as he could. I didn’t care. Everyone knew I was a thief. Everyone, even my mother. She hung her head and nodded whenever someone came and yelled to her about it. She’d order me to give back whatever I stole- but I’d usually already eaten it. She’d get a good talking to from whomever it was (usually our crappy neighbor) and then she’d apologetically close the door. After that, I would get the silent treatment for a day or so. Then, the cycle might just repeat itself right away.  
It wasn’t that Mom hadn’t taught me well, as everyone told her. It was that I saw the struggle in her eyes when I reached for a second helping of food. Once, there was no food for lunch. Then, I realized that yeah, I couldn’t eat twice at one meal – but oh look! A vendor!  
Now, I never ate twice and mom knew why. It was a tacit agreement that neither of us spoke about the dire finances of our household – and she would keep nodding at the intruders shaking their fists at me.  
As I rounded the corner towards school, I slowed to a walk. I pulled the warm pizza pocket out of my mouth where I’d been holding it. I took a smaller bite than the whole thing. It was steaming in the cold air, delicious, and with just a hint of spices that didn’t wholly belong on the pizza. Hey, no one said the vendor paid for these in the first place. I’d caught him garbage diving too one day. We’d fought over a whole box of old bread – and yeah, I just ran away with them.  
But now, I happily munched on my breakfast. Yep, life was good right then. I strolled slowly now, knowing full well that I was early to meet my friend, Aaliyah. But I couldn’t wait to meet her. These quiet walks in the morning were usually the highlight of my day. They were also the reason I held an extra pizza pocket in each hand. Another for me, and one for her. This one I would eat with her and we would happily walk together, enjoying our short walk to school before the day really began.  
Ours was a quiet existence. I already knew that someday, our friendship would hopefully breach the lines of friendship and we, the pariahs already of our ‘slumbug’ existence, would break into a whole new level of pariah – that of two female bodies in love (even though it boggled me that I was female. It just never felt quite right).  
Finishing my first pizza pocket I tried not to dwell on this. But of course I did. I tried to visualize how Aaliyah’s mother (another single mother, just like mine!) would accept this. Would she? I knew Madame Akizah as a generous and kind shop owner. But what did she think of women in love?  
We could marry if we moved north, I told myself. There, there was job in factories for us ‘unbloomed’ ones. I would work hard to protect Aaliyah and provide for her! I would –

“Already eating?” a laughing voice jerked me from my thoughts. And there she was. The highlight of my life. The shining ray in all this misery.  
Aaliyah had shining black hair that she kept simply long and plain. Her smile was brilliant, her skin just a tad darker than mine, which left us both in the ‘dirty-looking’ category. She was shorter than me by half an inch (which I constantly rubbed in her face) and had the largest and sweetest eyes possible. Today, she was wearing her loose red sweatshirt and grey track pants with sneakers.  
Still chewing my last mouthful I made sure not to speak so I wouldn’t spit all over. I’d done that before. She’d laughed at me so hard she’d turned redder than her sweatshirt.

“Thanks,” she said as she accepted it. Then, pressing it between her two hands, she said “Ooh, it’s still warm.”  
I nodded and smiled, then finished my mouthful with a gulp. Awkwardly, I tried to think of something to say. As usual in these strange silences that would so often fill the air between us, I wished to tell her how I felt.  
If only I was big and strong, I thought. If only I was stunningly beautiful like she. If only, if only… and my thoughts would spiral down and down as we walked together. I hunched my shoulders like an unhappy bird and ate ravenously at my last pizza bit.  
A fine drizzle began to descend. A car whipped past us, full of jeering idiots. Protectively, I slipped an arm around Aaliyah’s shoulders. She stepped closer to me. It was our protective mechanism. It worked well on strangers because they all assumed I was a guy – even Aaliyah’s mother sometimes called me ‘mister’ if she was scolding me (like the third time I’d tried to steal from her).  
But right now it wasn’t wholly necessary. The car was gone, after all, and the walk to school was short. But… I jostled Aaliyah playfully just as an excuse to keep my arm around her. If it was a joke it didn’t matter, so I got to hold her a little longer. “You ready for today?” I asked cheerfully.  
She looked up at me with those big doe-like eyes. She smiled, and it was filling me with sparkles. “I think so,” she said “I studied all night. I think I’m ready.”

“Great,” I said wistfully, wondering what it would be like to kiss her – and then my brain registered what she’d said. “Wait- ready for what? Is there a test?”  
She gave me ‘that look’. “Physics! Today! First period! Did you forget?”  
I whimpered, drawing my arm from around her to play with my short and messy hair. It was black (just like Aaliyah’s!) but dull and boring. “Yes?” Oh crap! And I was trying to get good marks in that!  
In a jerk she pulled her bag over her shoulder and whipped a light blue notebook out. First she smacked me on the shoulder with them. I yelped, then she handed them to me. “Cram!” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered as I took the notebook and flipped it open. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think she’d be the perfect wife. Strict but caring, disciplined and studious – I could get a job for the two of us and she could keep studying…  
Shaking my head I tried to focus upon the notes before me, even as small droplets began cascading down harder and harder.  
We, and the notebook, were thoroughly soaked by the time we stood in the corridor before the classroom. Funnily enough, only about half the students were soaked. There were those who had the good sense to own a coat and who were only damp. Then, there was the rich kids.  
Oh, it wasn’t hard to tell them apart. They were dazzling and beautiful no matter what happened, and they were just – whatever. I didn’t even look at them.  
I just stood in a corner with Aaliyah and our three friends – the total of us being five. ‘The’ five that teachers always talked about. We were the ‘special education’ ones. The unbloomed.  
I had this theory, I read about it online and in a magazine once, that not being able to bloom was due to a nutritional deficiency. I’d believe it, because all five of us were dirt poor except Magdalene. And Magdalene was, well, really special. She had a hard time talking. Her eyes were lined with black, her clothes were black, and spikes jutted from her at every possible corner. But she just couldn’t really talk. Or do math. Or really, sit still for that long. She liked shouting too.  
But she was an unbloomed, so she was my friend. We, the useless ones, we stuck together.  
Also, we waited our turn. As the teacher, Mister Murney, passed by to unlock the door the five of us drew back to get out of everyone else’s way. We knew our place in society. I gritted my teeth at it, but that was what it was. It just wasn’t safe to get in anyone else’s way. People who had bloomed just had so much power!

“Studying still? It’s a bit late for that?” Professor joked as he held the door open. I realized he was talking to me. Sheepishly, I grinned and shrugged. Someone walked past me and slammed their backpack into my shoulder.

“Sorry!” they said, obviously not at all. I returned to the page. The ink had bled a little from the rain. I tried to focus, to memorize all the formulas-

“Come on,” Aaliyah patted me on the shoulder, steering me into the classroom. I protested but let her, enjoying the attention. In a last minute ditch attempt I flipped the page – and saw more formulas! CRAP!  
Sniggers rose from the back of the class as Aaliyah steered me to my seat. We sat, all five of us, smack in the front. It was the safest spot to be and even the teachers encouraged it. They didn’t want us to get picked on.

“Notebooks away,” Murney said, mainly to me. I pressed my lips together and handed Aaliyah back her notebook. More sniggers, about what I couldn’t guess but I wanted to punch someone for it. Rich kids.  
Then, the test began. Mister Murney handed out the leaflets to each row and they were passed down. The instant I got mine I flipped it open and began skimming the questions. Yes, yes, yes, I knew most of these! Okay!  
Thanking Aaliyah with all my might, I flipped to the back section – the ‘superior’ section. It was really only for the ‘superior’ students who showed promise and who had exceptional marks – a category Aaliyah and me had exceptionally managed to nose our way into. It was quite remarkable for us unbloomed ones to have managed to enter the category, a feat that amazed our principal and even earned us both an embarrassing article in the school’s newspaper once.  
And YES! I knew how to do those too!  
Furiously, I began scribbling away. Time seemed to slow as I focused upon one question then another, scribbling and calculating and jotting numbers here then there.  
Halfway through, I lifted my head up. Professor Murney was pacing the rows, scolding students and reminding everyone to keep their eyes on their papers.  
I, however, was suddenly unsure of what I was doing. Something was wrong. Something tingled at the back of my neck. Something that had happened when – I looked out the window and caught my breath. Beyond the preened soccer fields, the sacred trees were on fire. Strange figures ran about, shadowy and furtive.  
I lifted my hand. “Professor.”

“Don’t speak out of turn,” Murney said as he walked over.

“But,” I protested.

“What?” he asked as he walked to my side. I pointed to the window.

“We’re being attacked,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Oh,” he said.  
There was the universal rustle of everyone looking. Of necks craning as everyone tried to see what I was pointing at. Which, for your information, was a sprite attack. It had happened once in my mother’s time at this school. It had already happened once in my time, and now I was unlucky enough to witness it again.  
The alarm, a little late in my opinion, wailed out over the microphone. “Attention, students and staff,” our principal said primly. “We are enduring a sprite attack! Senior students are encouraged to use this as an opportunity to hone their fighting skills and gain hunting points – which I remind you are required for graduation!”  
There was a cheer. Because, yeah, sprite attacks weren’t a catastrophe. In suburbs, where people were caught unawares watching their TV’s and where the populace wasn’t crawling with students yearning to ‘get out and FIIIIGHT!’, as some teachers were now shouting in the hallways, it could be dangerous. It was just especially dangerous if you were magically crippled, like, you know, us unbloomed were.  
I was hunkering down in my chair, heart already hammering in my throat. Professor Murney was already at the front of the class, huge grin plastered on his face. “Alright students!” he called out like this was the best ball game of the world. “Get out there! Get some points!”  
I slunk farther down in my chair, exchanging a horrified look with Aaliyah – who somehow didn’t look as terrified as I felt.  
There was a roaring cheer of students jumping up, throwing pencils down and rushing for the windows. “Go, go, go!” Murney cheered, clapping his hands.  
Students, the fastest first, began blooming right as they threw themselves at the windows. It was normally a sight I both loved to watch and hated to watch. I was jealous, I hated them for being able to do something so magnificent. To shed their human skin and bloom into fully spiritual form.  
There was Zalf, the gryffon who passed through the glass just in the nick of time. Gertrude, the graceful swan. But I was waiting with bated breath for the one. The one.  
She was filthy rich. She was long-legged, blonde, pale of skin and always impeccably dressed. Her hair was short and choppily pulled back, with two long tendrils hanging down beside her face. Confident as could be, she and her small cluster of elite friends waited until everyone else was on their way to being moving. Because they never needed to rush. They were dragons.  
Ever seen a dragon? Me neither until last year when our classes merged. Since then, I waited with bated breath for the crystal ice white dragon to materialize – but most of all for the jade green one. Her.  
She, leaping for the window, was graceful and lithe. Stunning and magnificent as her green scales shimmered to reality around her and her shocking blonde mane rippled out.  
Then, just like that, she was gone. With an exhale I relaxed and looked back to the front of the class where Murney was. He was looking at me expectantly.  
I pointed to the test. “Can I finish?”  
Proffessor cringed. “You do know that you need hunting points to get into any high-ranked school, right?”  
My jaw fell. But we were un-bloomed! We couldn’t hunt! It was too dangerous for us to even join organized hunting parties! Never mind throwing ourselves into a melee!

“I mean,” Murney continued. “For the other schools, you can get in without it. But I know you two were hoping to get into McVaster so-“  
Aaliyah scraped back her chair and jumped to her feet. Determination was scrawled all over her face. Holy – she really was going to do this!  
I clutched at my chair. “Aaliyah! They’re sprites! We’re unbloomed-“

“Get up!” she ordered. “We’re going!”

“You can hit them over the head with sticks!” professor was cheering. Aaliyah grabbed me by the arm and yanked me to my feet.  
I protested, but my wife-to-be was having none of it. With a yank and more determination than she needed, she rushed us out the door.  
And that, really, was how it all began.


	2. Chapter 2

In a catastrophic rush we ran through the building. She didn’t need to pull me anymore but she had a firm grip on me. But I wasn’t going to run away. I was by her side and was going to protect her from the sprites! Somehow, in the chaotic rush of the moment, I thought that I was going to prove that I could take care of her by... whacking sprites over the head? Yeah. Brilliant.

We crashed out the double front doors into the yard. It was full chaos. There was students in all shapes, everywhere, grabbing at sprites and battling them in the most (to my unmagical lens) epic of ways. Sparks were flying! Magic simmered through the air like ribbons!

Aaliyah let go of me, running towards the debris around the trees. “Grab a stick!” she called to me, doing so herself. Then, seeing as I wasn’t getting there fast enough she threw a stick at me, snapped one off a branch for herself, and whirled around to face…everything.

Because the school grounds were huge. The fields sprawled in all directions with preened green slopes, a little stream gurgling down among them, and trimmed trees here and there dotting the landscape. But the battle was all concentrated here, where the sprites were trying to destroy our sacred trees. We were smack in the thick of it.

“Get as many as you can!” ordered Aaliyah before sprinting into the chaos. I wanted to yell at her to wait for me- but that would have sounded wimpy. I was brave! Rawwwr!

So I stood there and tried not to quiver with my stupid stick in hand. Damnit! Why?!

As they say, spirits and the bloomed ones that are so inclined can smell fear. Within seconds a sprite was flashing towards me, elemental powers in hand and teeth gnashing.

If you’ve never seen a sprite up close, their sparkling cloud doesn’t hide their shape very well. Beneath it, they sort of look like floating ghosts with evil hands and onion-shaped heads. This one had green lights sparkling around its hands and the nastiest pointy teeth I’d ever seen.

“Snack- snack,” it seemed to say, clacking its teeth together as it floated before me.

I gripped my stick with both hands. Think of Aaliyah, I told myself. Think of school. You’re never going anywhere unless you bash this thing’s brains in-

Aaaand, just as I was thinking that, it zoomed in on me. I swung the stick with a yell, a sound that was mercifully drowned away by all the sounds of a battlefield around us. My stick whizzed above the sprite’s head and I lost my balance. The sprite leaped forward. Its fangs buried into my right forearm, its elemental spell sending electric shocks into me.

Okay, now I yelled.

And then something happened.

I felt a change come over me. Something rushed through my system like hot soda bubbling in my veins. I thrashed, the electric sparks suddenly seeming faint.

I’m fucking dying, I remember thinking. Good lords, this was stupid!

As the rush continued I found myself moving – and suddenly came to with my hand closed over the sprite. Both hands.

Beneath my fingers I felt the sprite pulsing. I felt the three parts of its soul throbbing with life. I heard it hissing and scrawling in a language I suddenly understood.

“Let me go!” it shrieked in that tiny, hissing, voice. “You’re not one of them! Let me go! What are you? Let me go!”

Shocked, I moved my hands. Tentatively, I pulled on what I felt and the three soul parts began coming apart. The sprite shrieked – and burst one of its own parts. It killed itself.

I gaped as the body went limp in my hands. The two other parts throbbed with life still – and it smelt. It smelt delicious, a strange aroma of death and untimely consumption and decay that called to me like a corrupt song. Suddenly I knew what an addiction must feel like. What it must be like to crave the casinos, the drugs, the things you knew you shouldn’t do.

Because I knew I shouldn’t eat the sprite.

I mean, yes, everyone eats sprites. Their body is a common fall roast that mother could afford about once a year. But I wanted the soul.

Hesitant, I looked around. Maybe I was searching for a reality check. But the world felt woozy. It didn’t seem real. And somehow I just knew that no one was paying me a shred of attention, too busy searching out their own glory strikes.

So I gave in. I was lifting the sprite’s remaining two souls to my lips. Somewhere within me my rational self was wondering what was happening. I mean, can stomachs even digest souls?

But it never reached my lips. Instead, the two sprite souls sort of infused up my arms, dissolving into me, merging up through my skin.

I gasped, dropping the now thoroughly dead body. I wanted to scream as I realized that the souls were now in me. Did I digest them through my hands? Was the sprite now part of me? Did I now have five soul-parts? What was going on?

Completely freaking I fell backwards onto my butt. With a scramble I tried to get away from the inanimate body. Impulsively I wanted to flee.

That must have been the trick because suddenly I was scrambling, launching myself up, up, and flapping into the sky. It was when I was about five to six feet up, pumping my wings/arms like mad that I realized – wait a minute.

I looked down at the chaotic battlefield. I looked downer and saw my legs- now two stubby black bird legs. With a hoarse shriek I realized that I wasn’t me any longer.

With a jolt I realized I’d bloomed. Somehow. With another jolt I realized I was about to fall straight down if I didn’t do something about it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we get to introduce one of my favourite characters in this novel -> the sparkly woman! She's just so... special? Don't underestimate her based on first impressions, haha. She's quite the cookie. For anyone who's reading, I really hope you're enjoying this story! Let me know what you think of the characters, setting, etc! I'd love to hear from y'all!

I cawed for help. I shrieked. I flapped and flapped and wiggled my butt in the hopes of getting those feathers to do their job. Ingloriously, it made me think of pilates. Clench the buttcheeks! Wave the arms! Automatically, my legs paddled the air as well, and I must have looked like an idiot trying to run through the air.  
Careening through the air, climbing up with no hopes of getting down, I found myself looping towards a tower.  
Now, I want to take a minute to say that this tower wasn’t painted in brilliant orange with ‘forbidden tower’ scrawled over it. It just – no one went there is all.  
It also just so happened to have a gridded balcony, sort of like a safety ramp, all around the top. I aimed for that, figuring I could sit up here until I got help.  
With a zoom I careened towards the tower. A side draft of wind nearly bashed me into the tower, and I didn’t so much land as I flew to the floor and stuck my legs out and began to walk. Skittering to a stop, I slammed sideways against the tower’s wall.  
Okay, I told myself. Okay. Ouch.  
The wind whipped at me and I suddenly seemed to realize just how far I’d climbed. High, in short. Nauseatingly high. And this balcony? Not quite a balcony. More like a thin walkway that you could see through. Very thin.  
I mean, it certainly was, what, five crows wide, but to me right then it was like a tightrope. I squished myself up against the wall and felt my heart pound in my throat.  
Then I heard laughter. “Very well!” a man cheered.  
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Whoa? Someone was here? Where? I looked all around before I realized that the voices were coming from within the building.  
Help! I thought. Someone help me!  
Feeling like every step was a gargantuan task, I began creeping forward, digging my fingers/claws in through the holes of the grid. Looking up, I crept my way around the corner. There, I poked my head around and up – and saw in through a large window.  
Inside, from my bizarrely low angle, I saw Mister Murney and several other men I didn’t recognize. They looked like parents. Filthy rich too. They were pale like glass, wearing crisp white clothes like you saw in the magazines, and were lounging on a sofa. They were all in a sloppy ring, and at the center was someone, who was bowing to each person in turn.

“Thank you for summoning me,” the person said in a feminine voice. As they straightened, shudders slid down my spine and all my feathers poked up.  
The woman had slick black hair that fell into her face. Her eyes were a brilliant orange. Her features were strange. I couldn’t place her lineage by sight, which was strange. For though she had pale skin paler than I had ever seen, her features weren’t wealthy. There was something familiar to her, like she could have come from my own family. Her suit was an impeccable black and tailored to flatter her in every aspect, but it shimmered and sparkled with sequins like an evening dress. Oh, and she was wearing a little black bowtie.

“We expect you to do exactly as we say,” one blonde man was saying.  
The woman laughed, a strange and high-pitched cackle. She flipped a hand up and rolled her eyes to the sky. “Of cou-urse!” she laughed. “I just can’t tell you all how excited I am to be here! It’s an opportunity I’ve been waiting for-“  
The men interrupted her. Typical. “We have arranged everything. You will be set to work straightaways. And,” this man, whom I could not see, added emphasis to his words. “We expect results.”  
Again, that twittering laugh. She planted a hand on her hip and swung a hip out, looking down to her left at where the man must have been seated. “Don’t worry about that! I am the ah, result-maker?” She laughed at her own bad pun.  
The men were not amused. Sure, they were smiling, but it was as if they weren’t seeing her. They were seeing beyond, imagining the results they so spoke of.

“So!” the lady clapped her hands together twice and up high with a flourish. “Let’s do this!”  
There was scuffles of chairs being scraped back. The woman began, in quiet tones that were still so nasally high-pitched, speaking to one member. I saw her place her hand on his shoulder as they walked away.  
A door creaked open, and footsteps led away. I held my breath and counted to four. The business meeting was over – and now I just had to go through the window and follow them. Well! With a flap and a hop I propelled myself up to the window.  
I smashed unceremoniously into the glass. Green shimmers marked it as being marked with a barrier. No souls could pass through.  
With a flop I landed on the grid-like landing. My mind careened, not just in pain. This room was magically locked? How was anyone supposed to get out in case of an emergency? I thought all buildings, per protocol, had to be magically transparent to allow safe evacuations. Maybe that’s why no one came up to this tower. It wasn’t safe!  
Curious and just wanting to get a look at what was surely a forbidden area, I hopped up onto the ledge. Inside, there was a dusty room, a dusty coffee table, and a few leather chairs from a few decades ago. I blinked, not even seeing a file folder or trace of the meeting.  
Then, fleetingly, it struck me that this was a strange place to hold a parent-teacher meeting, or whatever kind of meeting it was. In an unsafe room, at the top of an unused tower, and in uncomfortable chairs.  
Weird, but I had a bigger predicament facing me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here you go peoples! on my blog, this is the fourth part of the first chapter, but on here it's chapter four. THings are about to get juicy! Please let me know what you think :)

Turning around on the ledge, I looked into the void.  
Behold, a poet would have said, the void looked back.  
Well if the void looking back was a thing, it went ‘Boo!’ at me. Because right then, as I was turning around, the wind buffeted me and I saw, far far beneath me, my Aaliyah whacking away at three sprites that were surrounding her. Worse! There was a ring of spirit creatures, our classmates, around her and watching.  
My blood boiled. How dare they make fun of Aaliyah! How dare they leave her helpless against three sprites!  
I lunged from my perch, my thoughts full of rage and no such thing as common sense. Careening, I sped on recklessly as fast as I could.  
It was about halfway there that I realized they were cheering her on. Aaliyah whacked out one sprite, then another, and the third cowered in fear. More cheers. Aaliyah was flush with victory, and our classmates were pounding the earth in support of her.  
It was her glorious moment and I, shooting through the sky like a fluffball of idiocy, realized I was about to make a joke out of it by ‘rushing to her rescue’.  
Cursing loudly in my head I tried to slow down. It was the worst pilates class ever. Clench those buttcheeks! Flap the wings – oh not that way!  
I found myself cartwheeling, flapping, and, I’ll admit it, shrieking my lungs out as the world spun and the earth came closer.  
For a horrid blink all I saw was Aaliyah zooming up to me, spinning with the earth – and then something green flashed over me.  
Snap! Giant teeth caught me and I was squished by a soft tongue – then unceremoniously spat on the ground. A giant set of claws pinned me to the earth and a snarling jade snout shoved into my face, complete with golden mane and horns.  
I froze. My heart pounded in my chest. Jade. Jade dragon, my classmate. Oh, how embarrassing.  
Looking left, I saw a horde of creatures staring me down in dismay. Looking right I saw more classmates – and Aaliyah’s shoes.  
“What is it?” Aaliyah’s voice asked. A stick prodded towards me.  
“It’s me!” I tried to squawk, twisting and flapping.   
“Is it dangerous?” my classmates murmured.  
“It’s looking right at you,” the jade dragon said to Aaliyah.  
Of course! Because – “It’s me!” I shrieked, willing myself back to humanoid form – and that did it.  
With a crackle of magic over my limbs I was suddenly human again. The giant paw snatched off of me in surprise and I scrambled to my feet. “Aaliyah!” I gasped, grabbing at her arm. “It’s me!”  
To my horror, she recoiled. Everyone took a jump back. Terrified that I hadn’t de-bloomed properly (or whatever you call it), I looked down at myself and patted myself. I looked fine. I was clothed (yeah!). “What?” I looked up, then around.  
The jade dragon shimmered, then turned into the slender and graceful girl she was. Tall of legs, beautiful and icy, she glared at me. “You bloomed,” she said coldly, as if it was a capital crime.  
I looked down at myself, then back at Aaliyah. She looked shocked as well, but in a good way. “You bloomed!” she said, reaching out to tentatively pat me on the shoulder. “Congratulations!” And then she drew me in for a hug.  
If the day could have ended there, it would have been blissful. For that moment I was in Aaliyah’s arms, pressed against her chest. I felt her heart beating against mine. We were surrounded by a ring of students who, sure, were looking on. But they weren’t being rude or cruel. I even assumed they were admiring.  
Then, yeah, reality struck. Aaliyah drew back. I stepped back as well, not wanting to be the creeper who clung to her. “So – you bloomed?” she asked.  
I looked down at myself again. But before I even got the chance to say something, the jade dragon laughed. “Into a crow. God, what a useless thing. Carrion,” and she snorted. Then, gagging, she waved a hand at her mouth. “Ugh,” she made a face as if tasting something disgusting. “I tasted dirt.”  
I wanted to punch her. Aaliyah stood bravely beside me – but the other students laughed. The jade dragon turned away and dissolved into her slender and oh so elegant friend group. The other students, guilty of having laughed and not wanting to associate with us much longer, turned away.  
With a sigh I turned to Aaliyah, about to give her my usual speech. “Ignore them,” I began before she held up a hand.  
“You’ve got to tell the teachers,” she said, her eyes unreadable. Wait- was she sad? “This is going to change everything.”  
My stomach fell out. No.  
But yes. In a rush of breathlessness, it struck me. I bloomed. I could go on hunts now. I could easily get into the universities with my marks without having to plead that I was an exceptional case. Better yet – I could get a job.   
I was no longer just like Aaliyah.  
It was a realization that took on its own presence as I sat in Mister Murney’s office, then in the nurse’s office. It clung to me like a wet sweater, crushing me into myself. After hearing the words ‘exceptional’ and ‘how did you do it’ over a thousand times, I was finally walking home with Aaliyah.  
Then, again, “How did you do it?” Aaliyah looked at me in wonder.  
I shook my head. “I just – it happened.” And that was all. I wasn’t stupid enough to tell anyone what had happened. Who ever heard of eating a spirit? Of, of, infusing it up through your arms? That was crazy talk. So I just kept shaking my head. Shamefully, I told Aaliyah what I told all the others. “I was getting attacked by a sprite. I tried to move back, and I tripped and fell weirdly – and I was a bird.” I looked down at my shoes. “And that’s it.”  
“Oh,” was all Aaliyah said, softly. She too looked down at her shoes. And that, was that.  
We walked in utter silence after that. We parted ways with a wave and a lame “see you tomorrow” that we echoed back at each other. Then, I walked home.


	5. Charr!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So in this chapter, we encounter Charr! She's a character who grows a lot, through a lot, and in my opinion, becomes really awesome in her strength. I hope you like meeting her (and her trippy world!)!

The party was a strange, cheap, cocktail mix of drunk partiers and alchohol on the grass. Everyone was dressed extravagantly, laying their chips out on their arms. What did these souls want? One man in a brilliant red boa dress gestured at me. He wanted something. What, I wasn't sure. I avoided him and circled towards a group of drummers. They were sitting on the grass – not a wise decision- but they were happy. They didn't mind as I sat with them and plucked at the greasy green strands around my feet.  
Drink-less, I was waiting. It took some time.  
I wandered, leaving the cheer and not quite rhythm of the drummers for a pool table. Here, the balls floated and everyone wanted to take shots at the white ball. Things were that strange half-reality that I had come to be used to. That was this world. Home, at least for now. Some day, as I dragged a finger along the edge of the table to collect dust, some day, I would bring my master to my home. He would then see what I meant when I spoke of half realities. The slight keel to the side that this world seemed to possess. The way red boa men would keep appearing. The way their costumes were perfectly reasonable amongst this strange cheer of cat-callers.  
A man in a black cat costume was mocking me for wearing exactly the same thing as he, but his words turned into a cawing drawl like all these languages sounded like to my ears. Behind him, a moving figure caught my eye. As our eyes connected the world seemed to stop.  
As if in slow motion I took the figure in breathlessly. Black hakama pants, a white shirt that suited, with red cherry blossoms descending the sleeves in an artistic detail too expensive for a costume. The rich quality of these clothes were offset by the cheap white powder that coated the face, by the cheap afro wig that covered the hair. But there was nothing that could hide those electric blue eyes. No, what distracted the common person from them was the black geisha lips.  
In my world, a man wearing painted lips would be strange. But here, no one thought the painted geisha face on a man – a handsome one no less- was strange at all. Not even the afro seemed to be thought of as weird.  
Smiling, I left the pool table. The man turned and walked away, the gait fluid, his hips rolling in that particular walk that experienced fighters of his caliber had. I had learned to recognize it by much trial and error. Now, there was nothing else that I judged a person by.  
It was by following him that I slipped into the thick of the party. That I finally ventured to the back, to the mass of pounding bodies jumping and writhing in time to music – and the house slid into view.  
Yesterday when we had been preparing ourselves my master had told me not to look at it before he arrived.  
“It'll discourage you,” he had said while lining my eyes carefully with kohl. I had sat patiently, eager for the attention. He had stepped back, taking in his work on me in with narrowed eyes. I loved the way he held that brush just then. So delicately. So expertly. Then, tapping me on the shoulder in that way he had to draw my attention back to serious details, he said “you don't want to be discouraged for this.”  
That's how I knew this cleansing would be difficult.  
As we broke through the crowd the house came into full view. It was a monster of a thing. Three stories, a massive front porch with giant pillars supporting it in what I would later tell master was 'greek style!' and educate him on what greek was in my world- later. For now, the house was large. Tyrannically white. Ominous, the porch like a mouth with windowed heartless eyes above it. Soon, it may clamp shut on the partygoers and digest them.  
'Hardly,' master would have said with narrowed eyes if I'd said that out loud. But to me, that's what it was. These ethereal, these strange, these... unwordable things that he was now sent out to battle. They were difficult, only a high-ranking prince of his fighting skills and birth-bought lineage could be sent to battle them. Of course, this sort of mission ought to be done in utmost secrecy otherwise – well, if anyone saw his hair they would panic and guess at what was happening – but worse, the house's inhabitants would flee and would have to be caught elsewhere. And was it me, or was every new appearance subtler? More cruel and demonic? More and more lives seemed at stake with every battle.  
I purposefully stopped myself from thinking that this was another video game.  
Those things don't exist here- and I was rudely drawn back into the reality of this world by the doorman stopping me with an arm out.  
“I said, ID,” he barked at me, cat ears waggling dorkily. They were all the fashion for men here, weren't they?  
I bit my lip, looking at this massive wall of a man before me. Tiny, tiny, and frail-looking me. Master promptly turned around, afro sliding slightly askew as he did. Luckily, none of his hair showed. “She's with me. My plus one,” and he reached over the beefy arm and caught my shoulder somewhat roughly.  
“Oh, I understand,” and the beefy man smiled. He even had cat-like dots on his nose and fake whiskers drawn on. How ridiculous!  
But then the arm lowered and I, staring still at the man, was hauled forward by master.  
“What are you doing?” he whispered. “How did that happen?”  
He was right. I should have used my skills. But, all these cat things were dragging my attention away! “Why are there so many cats-”  
He turned around, hands on both my shoulders now. Those electric eyes held me captive. Their faint glow illuminated his face slightly, and it made me breathless. He lifted a hand from my shoulder- and flicked me hard on the middle of my forehead. It stung, but it definetely reset my attention in an ethereal way. Wincing and making a face I rubbed my forehead then my nose. My power felt all mangled now-  
“Charr, I need you to focus. This isn't some game. Forget about them, they're not real cats.”  
Because cats only exist in my world. That was why I had been summoned here. To replace them. Gulping, I nodded and stopped rubbing my nose. “I understand,” I said weakly.  
“Good,” he said gently. His hand left my shoulders. “Are you ready?”  
I nodded, and the world seemed to reset. It slid into action. A group of drunk party girls passed by, cheering and whirling in a spinning type of dance as they held their drinks aloft. They looped arms around my master, trying to drag him into their drinking game. He pushed them away gently and they cursed at him.  
I noticed one girl in the back was wearing a plain black square as a costume, the box hanging from her chest like a sign. She was laughing too, but it seemed strange. She held no drink in her hand.  
“Come,” master said sharply and he took my shoulder. We walked further into the house. The corridor was a deep red at first, light glowing down from bulbs set in the ceiling that were normal for both worlds. The only strange colors were the colored glow sticks that were strung about like streamers.  
At the end of the hallway was darkness, then a turn to the left. Here, the ethereal began.  
Lights glowed up from the creases where the floor met the walls. Blue hued, it made the very air seem cold.  
“Well,” Master pulled off his fake afro and tossed it aside. His natural hair tumbled down. In this lighting, all that one could see was the deep darkness of his base color, and the jet blue that glistened metallic in streaks throughout. I wanted to clap my hands in glee and touch it. I always wanted to touch his hair. It was a sign of his birth lineage, a sign of his world, of this strangeness, of everything here.  
He gave me a stern look. “Are you ready?” Not that now was the time to be un-ready, obviously. But he wanted to be sure I was focused. I nodded, reaching to my hips for my hidden daggers. He returned the nod in silent agreement at my actions and flicked his wrist out. A small handle slid down his sleeve. The moment it touched his palm it unclicked and the sword slid out as if it was unfolding. Though he had explained the minutia of the process to me before, it still seemed like magic. There was no creases in the blade and that samurai sword couldn't possibly fit within its own handle. Pure magic.  
He would tutt and shake his head if he knew I still believed in such things. “The ethereal is not magic,” he would scoff. “It is quantifiable. Measurable. Moveable. We know what it is. Magic is silly.”  
Yet even his own eyes seemed like magic to me. What else was I to believe in? Believe in the moment, I had told myself so long ago. Just roll with it.  
And so I did. As so many times before, he took the first step and I slid into pace at his side, always just one step behind him. That way I could mirror his every move while still being within reach- a very important thing for us.  
It was swiftly put to the basest of tests when we rounded our first corner, again, a left turn. Here the lighting turned a bright orange-hue that beamed down from the top of the walls as if pretending to be normal. Yet there were no bulbs that shed this light. It was a (magic) ethereal sign that we had switched worlds.  
I had very little time to acknowledge the lighting however. The hall was suddenly filled with party-goers. As silent as the entry had been, here was chaotic with laughter, the throbs of music that imitated the echoes from out of doors yet was somehow different. And here, no one partied with drinks in hand. The women – for they mostly were women- swirled and danced and laughed loudly with hands at their sides instead of aloft. On their chests hung the black squares, all of them.  
A group of five turned towards us, laughing and whooping as they rushed with arms outstretched. Before I could wonder, master dodged to the side and I seamlessly followed. The women swooped by, their fingers skimming past my shoulder. Laughing, they swooped on mindlessly.  
As a trailing afterthought that whispered in their wake, master hissed to me. “Beware the black squares. If they touch you, you will become one of them.”  
“The squares-?” I hesitated. He had quickened his pace. More partygoers swirled around us, and I began to notice strange things. Limbs jutting like spiders' legs from the squares. Some had eyes that grew and blinked from within the black.  
“They're alive,” master muttered as we dodged a man who was walking, laughing and senselessly ambling along. His eyes did not seem to see, but he was grinning madly as if this was the best party of his life. We ducked by his side easily, but the six spider-like limbs that hung from either side of the square reached for us. It's bulging eyes rolled and the square squirmed towards us as we passed on.  
At the end of this corridor, all pretense of normalcy had passed. The house began revealing its true colors, one shade in every turn that presented itself to us.  
There were three. The leftmost side was a brilliant orange in keeping with the hues of this hall. To the middle was red. To the rightmost was red. I looked to master. He did not miss a beat.  
“Orange will be easiest,” he said, deciphering the silent code of colors. And so we took the orange hallway.  
As we progressed, there were doors and turns that presented themselves to us. I did not bother trying to understand the rhyme and reason of master's choices. Were it up to me, we would be hopelessly lost in this madman's maze within seconds. Left, right, left, - I did not try to keep track. Instead I kept my eyes fixated upon the walls which had now turned strangely desert again. The doors, in glimmering hues that glistened under the brilliant orange lighting, were beginning to shine with spirit-marks. Footprints of the ethereal, master would scoldingly say.  
One twist that brought us straight up a flight of stairs, then presented us with another corridor. To our left hung a black curtain, thirty feet long. Master pulled it back.  
On the wall, completely covering the wall and beamed down upon by more orange light, was a giant painting. It spoke of oil spills, of lustrous velvety fabrics, and of drinks so desirable it grew moth wings into mouths. It throbbed with life, glistening all over with slumpering life.  
Master quickly drew it shut. “Almost there,” he said to me under his breath, so not as to wake the sleeping danger.


End file.
